It was now August of 1914. World War I had begun. One country after another was drawn into the conflict. Even in her darkest days of slavery, Bakhita had never witnessed a war. She had heard of war, though, and shuddered at the thought of the toll on human lives. “O Lord, why can’t we human beings live in peace with one another?” she asked.
This war was to directly affect the community of sisters and students at Schio. The superiors feared that, as a bad situation grew worse, they would be in danger. Some of the sisters and students were evacuated to Mirano Veneto. They would stay there until the situation in Schio was safer. The sisters who remained would be asked to take on new, extra duties in order to continue the Lord’s work.
Sister Bakhita was one of those given a new assignment. She was appointed the sacristan and put in charge of the chapel. It would be her responsibility to prepare the chapel, including the altar and the vestments, for the various services. She also kept the chapel clean and neat.
In the beginning Bakhita had to admit she knew little about this important new assignment. But she was eager to learn. As time passed, she drank in the quiet beauty of the chapel. She knew with all her heart that Jesus, her Master, dwelt there, physically present in the tabernacle. She talked with the One who was her spouse and friend, and she listened, too.
As the war dragged on the sisters’ convent was turned into a hospital for wounded soldiers.
Sister Josephine Bakhita continued to take care of the chapel. These were the happiest moments of her day. She also worked at the military hospital, known as Hospital 55. Sister Bakhita was very sensitive to the suffering of the soldiers. She and the rest of the sisters wanted to help them feel safe and to find relief from their pain and weariness.
When new casualties arrived at Hospital 55, bloody and in pain, Bakhita would remember her slavery days. During the forced marches, she had only been able to cry in her heart for the adult slaves who carried heavy loads that cut into their shoulders and left them exhausted. Now Sister Bakhita was happy to be able to actually help the wounded soldiers with her prayers and physical care.
A Capuchin Franciscan priest, Father Bartholomew Cesaretti, was the chaplain of Hospital 55. Because priests were scarce and travel was dangerous in wartime, Father Bartholomew became the chaplain to the Canossian Sisters as well. His assignment lasted from November 25, 1916, until January 18, 1919. After the war, he wrote his remembrances of Sister Josephine Bakhita. Because she took care of the chapel, she often had to ask Father questions. The priest recalled that she did so humbly and simply. He noticed that she carried out her duties with a sense of exactness and a joyful heart.
Sister Bakhita prepared the altar and vestments carefully. She often whispered short prayers as she worked, such as, “The Master, the Lord.” This is how she reminded herself of the presence of God. And in doing that, she also reminded those around her. She was a woman of great faith. Even the soldiers were impressed by her example.
Father Bartholomew wrote: “When she [Sister Bakhita] spoke of God, she seemed to experience a special happiness and consolation. When officers and soldiers spoke to her, she always answered in such a saintly way, reminding everyone of the mercy of God. She was prudent, reserved, and modest with them all.”
The chaplain also noticed that if Sister Bakhita heard bad language, she was not afraid to speak up. She was kind but firm and did not spare soldiers or officers. She confronted the wrongdoers and challenged them to consider how they may have offended God. She urged them, always gently, to go to confession.
Sister Bakhita was courageous and honest. She never hesitated to say what a person needed to hear for the good of his or her soul. Someone else might have let things slide, but not Bakhita. “That African sister is goading me on in my ministry,” Father Bartholomew said with a smile.
The priest also commented on the lifestyle of the Canossian Sisters in Schio. He noticed and admired their strict spirit of poverty. Each small bedroom was plain and neat and had only the essential furniture: a wooden bed with a straw mattress, a chair, and a small table. On one wall hung a picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary and a crucifix. Because Bakhita was not a teacher in her Congregation, her room didn’t even have a pen, paper, or books. In the common room, a room shared with the other sisters, she did, however, keep a small basket of silk thread that she used to embroider beautiful designs.
During the war years Bakhita was always busy but serene. She completed her own tasks and often volunteered to help other sisters with theirs. When the soldiers exclaimed at her how hard she worked, she had a simple answer for them: “Well, Jesus worked, too!”
Finally, the war ended. Life gradually returned to normal. Hospital 55 closed, and the Canossian Sisters went back into their classrooms. Soon the kindergarten children began to arrive daily once again, each one firmly clasping his or her mother‘s hand.
And the school had a new doorkeeper—Sister Josephine Bakhita! The children looked up, wide-eyed, at the dark African sister. She had a beautiful smile. The young mothers and their children loved to be greeted by her. They, too, affectionately called her Sister Moretta, “the black sister.”
Frequently a mother would stop to speak with Sister Moretta. It was so easy to share troubles and fears with her. Bakhita always listened with interest and kindness. Sometimes she would nod her head in sympathy. It was as if she had the power to lift a burden from each person’s shoulders and take it on her own. When the confider paused and asked Sister Bakhita what should be done, she always responded with words of faith and trust in God. Yes, God would see the questioner through this difficult problem, as well as any other that would come along in life. Sister Bakhita would tenderly pat the troubled person’s hand and murmur, “Courage.”
The mothers told their friends about the kind African sister. They, too, would come to the school hoping to meet Sister Moretta. Sometimes they wanted her to pray for them. At other times they wanted their children to meet a sister from Africa. Bakhita greeted everyone with her warm smile. Shy at first, the children soon learned that this gentle sister was a wonderful storyteller and a good friend.